Turin Horse
by Queen of the Red Skittle
Summary: Pre-movie. Thor and Loki stray beyond their keepers and into unfamiliar territory. Monsters await.


**Disclaimer: **I own nothing.

**A.N: **Written to the soundtrack _Kingdom of Your Own _and _To the North _by Matthew and the Atlas.

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_Turin horse – the horse from Turin, Italy, the catalysis of Nietzsche's mental breakdown. _

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Turin Horse

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.s.

Thor saw the faint, shimmering rift between the two rocks and was struck with the irresistible urge to go through. He hovered close to the strange hole, eyes alight, mouth open. He'd never seen anything like it. It was as if peering through a pool that had no bottom. He wanted to touch it, explore it, but most of all, he wanted to show his brother.

Glancing around to make sure his discovery was his and his alone, he hurried back to the main part of the clearing, back under the careful eye of Finna, the appointed caretaker. It had been a quiet, uneventful morning in the secluded grove, the golden sunlight slanting through the apple trees in hazy beams. Butterflies flitted as carelessly as motes of dust and paused every so often to taste the nectar of the ever-flowering buds. Loki was drowsing in a patch of sun, head resting in his arms. For once his face lost his pinched look and was slack with relaxation. Thor contemplated his brother for a moment and decided he had to drag him along to explore the strange, glistening space between the rocks. He liked having his brother around, even if he was a poor blade in a scuffle and an even worse tusseler. Some dim part of him thought maybe Loki didn't like getting dirty or roughed up, but a greater part of him ignored it. What wasn't fun in getting into fights and emerging victorious? Thor craved the heat of battle, the excitement, the struggle, and it was the restlessness bred from the grove's tranquility that bred the idea of further investigating the hole. Quietly, as quietly as his stomping feet would allow, he stole to Loki's side and crouched down.

"Loki. Brother, wake up."

A frown marred the pale brow. One eye opened and regarded him with peevish distaste. Thor had seen the same look cow servants and tutors alike. He muscled through it and beamed in appeasement.

"Want to go on an adventure with me?" he asked.

The frown deepened and Loki buried his head in his arms, groaning. Thor sat back on his heels, unable to hide the grin spreading across his face. The battle was half-way won.

"Please?"

"Go away," Loki said, emerging from his barrier, re-doubling his glare. "I was sleeping."

"You were. Now you aren't. Come with me," Thor said again. "I have found something." He leaned in close and threw the hook he knew his brother couldn't refuse to bite. "I think magic is involved."

Thor watched with undisguised triumph as Loki stiffened and went still. The sharp glare turned hungry. Loki sat up, his leathers creasing.

"Alright," Loki said, "only for a moment—"

"Only for a moment," Thor said.

Loki eyed him for a long moment, and though Thor was typically poor at figuring out what his brother was thinking, it was obvious the lure of a magical artifact overrode whatever doubt lurked in his mind. At last Loki nodded, relenting, and Thor resisted a whoop of joy. He glanced behind his shoulder and saw Finna in conversation with one of the Aesir guards. Now was the time to act. The idea of sneaking away from the caretaker thrilled him so much gooseflesh erupted across his arms. He got up and crossed the grove. He didn't need to check if his brother was stealthy: Loki moved like a wolf besides him, each footstep velvet and silent. A joy blossomed in Thor's chest until he wanted to burst with warmth. He loved it when he and his brother went on adventures. Though his playmates didn't trust or like Loki, Thor knew they were blind to the merits of his companionship.

"This way," Thor said, and led Loki deeper into the bushes until they came to the spot he'd discovered before. He moved aside to allow Loki a closer look. The dark-haired boy leaned in, an air of deep concentration on his face. He lifted a hand and wiggled his fingers inches above the blue rift.

Thor moved closer. "So?"

"So what?" Loki asked.

"Is it magic?"

Loki's brows furrowed. "I'm not sure," he said, albeit reluctantly. "Be quiet; let me concentrate." He wiggled his fingers again and a faint, almost wispy tendril of green mist rose from them. It curled and flicked, as if following air currents. It gained speed when it neared the hole and in a flash was sucked through. Loki took a hasty step back.

"What? What is it?" Thor asked, crowding.

"I don't know," Loki said. The frown was back between his eyebrows. He chewed the inside of his cheek. "It felt like . . . I don't know, like some force drew it in."

Thor could understand the irresistible attraction. He could feel it urging him to cross the boundary, to enter the blue unknown. He took a step closer. The more he regarded the shimmering blue catch lights, the more he thought it beautiful. It was a shade he never encountered, despite all the splendors of Asgard. A surge of passion welled within him and he could feel himself grinning. More than anything he wanted to know. He stretched a hand out.

Loki flashed him a startled look. "What are you doing?"

"I want to see where it leads," Thor said.

Loki clamped a hand on his wrist. "But you have no idea what it is!"

Thor shook himself free and threw his brother a winning smile, the same that guaranteed an extra treat from the cook or a shortened lesson from a tutor. "You're not going to hold me back, will you brother?"

He could see Loki battling within himself, torn between caution and disappointing his older brother. Sometimes Thor felt bad for forcing Loki into choices, but this time none of the guilt pierced his eagerness. He fidgeted, restless, anxious to explore. At last his brother's body slumped in a longsuffering sigh, defeated.

"Alright, but—"

"Enough!" Thor said, laughing. "You worry worse than Finna."

A hurt look flashed on his brother's face before smoothing into affected indifference, but Thor wasn't paying attention. He slipped his arm through the space between the two rocks. Aside from a light chill leaking into his leather, nothing screamed danger at him. An adult would've found it inaccessible but he was still slight enough to crouch down and wiggle his body in. There was more room than he thought and he saw the hole was actually a tunnel. The source of the blue pulsed further down, beyond his sight. He could sense Loki shift beyond the hole, still wary and skittish as a wild horse, but Thor was moving, crawling on his hands and knees, deep in the grip of adventure. After a few seconds and a soft curse, the crunching sounds of Loki's boots on gravel filled the tight space. Thor didn't know how long they crawled. The tunnel maintained its rough size and shape, never widening nor tightening. The blue grew dark. It grew colder. It was then the golden-haired boy realized an unpleasant smell, like the putrid rotting of bloated fruit, permeated the air. He stopped, his nose wrinkling. Suddenly, he missed sunlight.

"Thor, let's head back," Loki said from behind him, and this time Thor didn't disagree.

"Okay," he said. "Just turn around and—"

His brother gave a short cry of surprise and fear. "Thor! The way—it's blocked!"

"What?" Thor tried to turn and see beyond Loki, wiggling and grunting in the constricted passageway. Sweat beaded his brow despite the chilled air. The stench grew stronger as he saw his brother's words were true: a wall blocked the tunnel they'd just crawled. Loki laid his hand on it. It was unyielding. The first tendrils of fear sunk in Thor's belly and he swallowed the hard lump in his throat down.

"Well," he said, coughing to remove the strange warble in his voice, "the only way now is forward."

"Wonderful observation, brother, " Loki said, but Thor knew the bite came from the same fear curdling in his stomach. He tried to think what his father, grizzly, one-eyed, imperious Odin, the Lord of Asgard, would do. He took in a deep breath through his mouth and puffed his chest. _Don't worry, Loki, _he thought, _I'll protect you._ He was moving again, sliding deeper into the unknown depths, the blue getting darker and darker until they were in total darkness. The sounds of the their breathing was thunderous in their ears. The rotting stench became mixed with a metallic one. Thor stopped and Loki collided with him with a low _oof. _

"Can you make some light?" Thor asked.

He could hear Loki shuffling in the darkness. "I'll try." A moment later, a weak, thin green light blossomed in his palm and Thor was filled with relief. His brother's face was dirty and scuffed and the green light made him look sickly. Loki lifted his cupped hand and tried to strength it, but the radiance flickered like a candle in a wind and grew dimmer than before. Loki cursed as the magicked glow faded into nothing. "I—I can't maintain it," he said, tone tight with frustration and fear. "I'm sorry."

"Come on," Thor said, trying to hide his disappointment with a loud voice. "Let's keep going."

They traveled in silence, blind, crawling, the rocks pressing all around them. Thor's thoughts tumbled in his head as he fought back the rising panic. He regretted leaving Finna's side. He regretted his urge to explore the strange, shimmering space. The sense of adventure, so fiery before, was cold ash in his chest. Loki was quiet behind him, but Thor could sense his own sense of despair and fear. He cringed at the punishment their father would inflict once he found out about their foolishness. He disliked getting his ears boxed, but a part of him gladly would've exchanged the punishment for this dark place. He wished for his father's hall. The memory of the golden pillars, the majestic statues, of his shining mother, brought stinging tears to his eyes, but he quashed the urge to weep. Only women cried. He wiped his nose. If Loki heard his snuffle, he made no sign of it. Then he realized he could see the shape of his hands. He blinked, thinking it was a trick, but his hands didn't disappear. If anything, they grew more defined.

"Loki! The light's returned!" Thor said. He hurried, scrambling in his haste to find the source. Loki panted behind him as he quickened his pace. The light was getting brighter, the nightmare almost at its end. Thor hurried, grin stretching his face. Then the floor fell from beneath them and in a horrifying, sickening drop Thor and Loki tumbled in space, screaming.

.s.

Finna wept. Odin glared above her, his grip on Gungnir so tight those nearest could hear the skin clenching.

"What do you mean, 'They are gone'?" Odin repeated, each word as heavy and deliberate as a dragon's step, the gaze from his one eye sharp enough to cut mountains. Finna fell prostrate before her king and queen, trembling.

"They were in the apple grove, resting, then the next moment they were nowhere to be seen!" she said. "I overturned every leaf, every stone, but it is as if they had been plucked out of thin air. Please Allfather, I beg your forgiveness!"

Odin sat back in the golden throne, jaws tight. "Enough, Finna. It is not the first time my sons have slipped past their keepers. Leave us."

The young woman removed herself from the floor and, stifling her tears, hurried out of the great chamber. Odin resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose, struggling to control the irritation and fear within his weathered breast. _Sons, _he thought. How could they be so foolish? Was everything a game to them? He was sure it was Thor who led his quieter brother into the mischief they were in now. His eye hardened at the thought of their punishments for scaring everyone. They were princes, not daft peasant boys: they would learn their status and worth, or so help him, he would tan their hides doing so. Frigg's soft hand rested on his own and drew him out of his thoughts. She was regal as she regarded him, betraying none of her own fear.

"We will find them, as we have always done," she said.

"Aye, that we will," Odin said, grunting. He speared one of the guards with his gaze. "You—send for Heimdall, and be quick about it."

After a certain amount of time, Heimdall appeared, stoic as the marble pillars surrounding the chamber. He knelt in front of the king and queen and said, "I know what you will ask, and the answer is unsettling. Your sons are beyond my sight."

Odin rose from the throne. "What?"

Heimdall shook his head. "Forgive me, my lord. It seems there is a tear in the dimension between Asgard and the other worlds. Your sons fell through, which is why I cannot see them."

"A tear?" Odin asked. "Here, in Asgard?"

Heimdall looked up. "You of all should know this is an old realm. Rifts are bound to appear."

Odin's grip tightened on Gungnir before relaxing. He nodded. "I thank you for your counsel, old friend," he said. "But that doesn't bring my sons back. Assemble my Aesir: we will find them, even if I must tear the nine worlds apart."

.s.

Thor sat up and groaned, clutching his pounding head. Dots swam in his vision. When he pulled his hand away it was tacky with blood. In the odd, low light, it appeared black. Thor blinked, trying to clear his eyes. He looked around. The warm, golden light of before was gone: a harsh, peregrine blue replaced it. The apple grove was nowhere to be seen: it appeared they were in a forest with massive trees and thick bushes. Thor never encountered trees as gnarly or big in the palace gardens of Asgard. Darkness lurked beneath the bushes, hiding whatever resided there. Strange birdsong warbled in the distance, unfamiliar to the chained canaries in their gilded cages. A faint wind rustled the leaves, making dry, clapping sounds. Gooseflesh erupted across Thor's arms and he hugged himself, confused, alone. Even the air smelled odd: loamy, moist, wild. The rotting aroma was faint now, a pale shadow from it once was. It was forgotten the moment Thor was on his feet, whispering, "Loki! Loki, where are you?"

A few heart-pounding seconds passed before a low, "Here," made Thor wilt with relief. He hurried over to the source of the noise and after wrestling with some bushes, found Loki in a similar state: dark hair disheveled, pale skin cut up and scuffed, leathers scratched. He was propped on one arm, the other holding his forehead.

Thor knelt by his side. "You okay?"

"Well enough," Loki said. He looked up and around, neck craning. "Where are we?"

"I don't know," Thor said. "I was hoping you might, though."

Loki threw him a withering glare.

Thor blinked under its onslaught. "What?"

"It's never my fault when you don't pay attention to the geography tutor. But when we fall through a magical tunnel, you want me to pull you out of the mess. Typical!" Loki got up and in brusque motions began patting himself down. The gold collar on his chest glinted in the dim light.

Thor frowned. He reached towards his brother. "You don't mean that."

Loki swatted the hand away and Thor shrunk down. The young dark-haired boy spat, "Yes, I mean every word of it. You always get us in trouble, and you always ask me to fix it! We should be back home, having supper, but instead we're here, wherever 'here' is." Angry tears glittered in his eyes and he turned away, shoulders tensed. Thor climbed to his feet, the first stirrings of guilt flushing his cheeks.

"I am sorry," he said, head bowed, as if he were speaking to his father instead of his younger brother. "I didn't mean for this to get out of hand. Do you forgive me?"

Loki was quiet, then: "Yes."

Thor sighed in relief. "I'm glad." He looked around. The light seemed to be getting lighter, meaning wherever this place was, it was morning. As if on cue, his stomach rumbled at him. Thor placed a hand on his belly and said, "Let's try to look for food."

.s.

The sun was dipping beyond the trees and Thor's belly was an aching stone of hunger. It had stopped growling hours ago and now gave twinges of pain. The boy winced. He had never known such hunger. Only once, for overturning a table, he was punished without supper, but he begged treats from a serving girl and went to bed full. He glanced over. Loki trudged a little ways away, wan and dirty, but not a complaint passed his thin lips. Thor wondered if he'd ever felt hungry like this. Or thirsty. His dry throat begged for water, his mouth as parch as the sparring sands. The thought of one goblets of crystalline water sent him grimacing. He shook his head, trying to get the images out of his head. _When I get back, _he vowed, _I'm drinking two whole barrels of water and eat an entire feast. _His foot caught a root and he stumbled.

"Blast it!" he said. He whirled around and kicked it. Loki watched on, laconic. Thor turned to him. "Can't you make some light? I can hardly see anything."

"I wish you would tell others the merits of my magic than make fun of it," Loki said.

Thor opened his mouth to retort when disturbed bushes silenced him. Both Odinsons went as frozen as deer scenting fire, their eyes wide and faces ashen. They drew closer to each other as they waited, ears straining. The sound came again, louder, nearer, and Thor swore he could hear the footsteps of a heavy creature. It was as if a beast was making its way through the undergrowth, muscling through the bushes. Without meaning to Thor found Loki's hand and squeezed. His brother squeezed back. The grip turned crushing when the source of the noise appeared beneath two trees. At first Thor thought it was a horse: its build and muscle structure was similar to an equine's: it possessed four black legs and a long, brushy tail. Then he noticed the 'horse' was wearing what looked like a hood. It hid its muzzle and all of its head. When he stepped back and broke a twig, the hooded head shot up and Thor saw coal-red eyes gleaming from under the cowl. The creature went still and the deep sniffing noise returned. Fear shot through him as a low, eerie keen issued from the darkness of its hood. The keen turned into a squall and the beast reared high, cloven hooves slashing the air.

"Run!" Thor shouted as the creature charged at them, roaring. Thor dove into the bushes. A wave of hot wind, stinking of carrion and molding cloth, blew past him. A startled cry tore through the air. Thor's blood froze.

"_Brother_!" He disentangled from the vegetation in time to see the creature heave Loki up by the arm. Rage thrummed in his veins and seared away the fear. He sprinted forward, cheeks puffing. As if sensing pursuit, the horse-creature began to gallop away, still dragging its prey with an unrelenting grip. Thor saw a tiny flash of green light, but the creature snorted it aside and continued to gallop away, quickly gaining ground. Thor ran until he thought his heart would burst. His lungs burned. His legs flagged. The cries grew fainter. His body betrayed him and he had to stop, gasping, heaving for air, eyes burning with tears of frustration. Sweaty hair hung in his face. _No, _he thought. He straightened, jaw set. Picking up a hefty stick he set out in the direction the horse-creature disappeared, following the tracks with deadly intentions. Even as the light dimmed to the point of night Thor walked, grim, desperate to retrieve his brother and slay the monster responsible.

It was with this single-minded focus did he notice a tiny, glowing speck in the distance. He clenched his fists around the gritty bark of the his club. Impatience warred within him; he wanted to run, bellowing, destroying everything in his path, but his teacher's words echoed in his ears: _Praise to the hunter who is stealthy and waits for the perfect moment to strike. _He compromised. He slowed and eased himself closer, taking his time, until he was just beyond the source of the light and noise. It was a campfire: the fire flicked and thrummed its hungry fingers towards the dark sky. Some meat roasting in its own juices turned above it on a spit, sizzling, smelling of cooking flesh. Thor's mouth filled with saliva. He inhaled deeply, stomach snarling worse than ever. He shook himself and tried to focus. He dampened the cry that flew to his lips when he saw Loki, no worse for wear, sitting cross-legged in the shadows. His was paler than normal. He cradled his bleeding arm, the same one the horse-creature clamped on. A mask of cool indifference rested on his face, hiding his thoughts; Thor recognized it as the expression he wore when the larger boys picked on him because he was small and slight and bookish. A protective storm surged through him. The storm only gained violence when the first creature emerged from the darkness, in its arms carrying wood. Thor burst through the bushes, yelling, brandishing his club.

"Oi! What—!"

Thor drew back and delivered the creature an awesome blow across its face. It spun around under the force of the clout, crying. The wood dropped. Other cries filled the air as two other creatures appeared. Thor was a whirlwind of fury. He struck, kicked, screamed, raged, striking flesh right and left. Something was roaring. Thor was in mid-whack when a thunderous cuff threw him head-over-heels. He crashed to the ground, stunned, blinking, before scrambling for his feet, snarling. Another cuff, this time on the other ear, threw him back down. Ears ringing, head stinging, Thor took his time to stand up. A kick to his chest had him flying until he crashed right besides Loki. Dazed, bleeding, Thor sat up with the help of his brother.

"What in the name of Ragnarok is all this?" said a sharp voice.

"Eh, don't know, Gríma! I was gatherin firewood when this little _drit _comes runnin out of nowhere, screamin like a berserker!" It was the first creature Thor hit. The boy glared at the three creatures regarding him. The one who just spoke could've passed as a peasant: he was dressed in a ragtag arrangement of clothes, strings, and clanking boxes. His face appeared Asgardian but his shoulders were curved, as if bearing a yoke, and a thin tail poked from under his garbs. The second creature hadn't spoken yet: whatever visage he bore was hidden beneath a white, featureless mask, save for two eye slits. It appeared to have the body of a man, and was dressed in leather. But it was the third creature, this Gríma, that demanded attention. Her face was like an Asgardian noble women's with rich black hair and elegant features, but everything below her shoulders looked like they belonged to a chimera. Her arms and hands were translucent and glistening, the veins and muscles visible. Her legs were backward-kneed, like a monstrous bird's. Her eyes bore into Thor's.

"Well?" she said. "What do you say for yourself?"

Thor spat. The glob landed at her taloned feet. "Damn you to Nastrond."

A chuckle emerged from the white mask. "A spitfire."

Thor felt the sting of the slap before he saw the motion. Heat bloomed across his cheek. Fury and indignation surged through him.

"We're the sons of Odin!" Thor shouted, ignoring the pinches Loki sent him. "You cannot treat us like this!"

Another slap cut, this one bringing water to his eyes. Humiliation now warmed his face alongside the pain. Gríma regarded him, hand upraised, daring him for another outburst. In an instant hatred surged through him. He hated the blood dried on his face. He hated the pain pulsing through him. Most of all he hated this she-creature before him. How she dare treat him and his brother this way? How dare she lay her hand on him? On Asgard none dared strike him, even the exasperated tutors. It was then he understood lawlessness, that these were creatures below the light and order of Asgard, and they should be punished with great wrath. He glared vengeance at her, lapsing into a sullen, mulish silence. His body was still too young to defeat her. He wished with all of his heart for his father's hammer, Mjölnir. Watch her slap him, then.

"You're far from your palace, little princeling_,_" she said. "Very far."

"What my ill-spoken brother meant to say is we would like to return home," Loki said. "We apologize for intruding. Please let us go, and we vow you will never see us again."

"A spitfire and a silvertongue," the creature with the mask said, ignoring Loki's request. "They truly must be brothers."

"Aye, Hildibrandr," Gríma said, still regarding Thor with the steadiness of a hunting cat. He resisted the urge to stick his tongue at her. "Brothers they truly are. And they don't lie: they reek of Asgard. I would recognize the leathers and soft armor anywhere." She leaned back and pointed to Thor. "This one is called Thor, and this one—" the glistening finger moved, "—must be Loki. One would have to be fools not to know of Odin's get."

Behind them, the lizard-man shifted and sent his boxes tinkling. "We could kill and eat them."

"And bring down all of the Aesir on our heads?" Gríma said. She snorted. "Sure, why not. That sounds like a lovely idea, Kúss."

Kúss ducked his head as if avoiding a blow. "They wouldn't know. And it's been a long time since I've eaten children." He licked his lips, teeth glinting like a wolf's.

"Our father is searching for us as we speak," Thor said, voice low and full of promises. "It won't be long before he finds us, and when he does, he'll pit you to tortures you've never dreamed."

The she-beast threw her head back and laughed a sound like the shriek of a barking dog. Thor refused to flinch. "And that's why you don't take nobility outside their golden cages. All you get are threats of death. Tell me, little princeling, does your father know where you are? If my beloved _illiligr_ didn't sniff you out and find you, hungrier creatures than us may've discovered you. How did you get here?"

Thor kept his mouth shut. It was Loki who betrayed him: "We found a tunnel." He ignored Thor's attempts to keep him quiet and continued. "At first we thought it was a game and went through, but when we did, we realized it wouldn't allow us to return. We had no choice but continue forward, until the ground dropped and we ended up here."

The she-beast and masked creature shared a look. "What do you think?" she said.

"Sounds like a hole in time," Hildibrandr said. "A rip, a one-way passage leading from one place to another. Only explanation."

"And these fools found one and went in? It's a miracle it held as long as it did. Honestly, it's as if they know nothing."

"We know many things," Loki said, and there was a faint layer of steel in his tone. "I know you are the creature Gríma Ketilsdóttir, a notorious murderess and thief from Svartalfheim, wanted for the deaths of six Asgardian officials. Your name and tribal tattoos gave you away. Your companion is the dark elf Hildibrandr Geirson, a known compatriot of yours and also wanted for murder." He flicked a dismissive glance at Kúss. "He's not worth knowing."

Four pairs of eyes stared at Loki, two incredulous, the third indignant, the forth worried. Thor swallowed hard and cursed his brother's tongue. If Loki felt the heat of everyone's gaze, he made no show of it. His face was of iron, expressionless and hard. Thor was filled with a sudden pride.

It was Gríma who spoke first, voice somewhat breathless. "Those are dangerous words on a dangerous road, little son of Odin. You sure it's wise to utter such things in such a lawless place? A cleverer creature wouldn't reveal all his knowledge at once."

To the murderers Loki appeared unruffled, but Thor could sense his brother's discomfort in the tense, stiffened way he held himself.

Hildibrandr moved closer to Gríma. "Their knowledge of us changes things," the dark elf said. "They're more trouble then they're worth. Why don't we feed them to your _illiligr_? It has already tasted Odinson flesh; and if we are caught, we can always say it hunted and ate them without our knowing."

A frisson of fear corkscrewed through Thor at the thoughtful way Gríma mulled over her companion's words. She stroked her chin with a translucent hand. Thor bared his teeth. He refused to die like a pig led to slaughter. He would fight until his last breath, true to his heritage as Odinson and prince of Asgard. His gaze darted to one of the fallen logs. He sprang for it, fingers outreached.

"Har, not this time!" It was Kúss; for his small stature the lizard-man was surprisingly dense. He pinned Thor to the ground, riding out the worse of the boy's kicks and punches. But Thor was no stranger to larger opponents than himself, and in a move as sleek and neat as an experienced fighter, managed to flip Kúss on his back. He began to whale on the creature's face, his fists becoming bruised and bloody. Kúss wailed in pain as Thor's punishment rained down, the meat of his face smashed. Teeth flew. An eye caved in and leaked clear jelly. The jaw unhinged in a brittle snap. The cries turned to gurgles. A shadow fell and Thor felt himself lifted. It was the dark elf. Hildibrandr held on with a strength beyond anything the boy experienced and Thor was forced to lay on the ground, cheek in the dirt. No matter how much he snarled and kicked, the dark elf was unmovable. Soon desperation fueled his limbs as he saw Loki being bullied towards the horse-creature. The coal eyes gleamed and ropes of saliva dripped from an invisible mouth. Loki began to strain with all his might to escape Gríma's vice-like grip, gray terror on his face.

"Brother, no!" Thor screamed. Hot tears scalded his skin. His heart was being torn from his chest, a pain like no other spearing his guts as he watched, helpless, as Gríma's mount moved closer for a killing blow, hot carrion breath fanning Loki's hair. In an act of clear anguish Loki threw up his hand. A burst of shattering green, furious, as bright as fire, exploded from his palm. The _illiligr _reared up, squealing agony, cloven hooves beating the air. Gríma released her grip to shield her eyes, stumbling, blinded. She stepped into the fire and yowled. With one last keening squall the horse-creature turned and bolted into the black night, the sounds of its crashing trail heard for long after it was gone. At last quiet descended on the campsite, Kúss' moans mingling with Loki's harsh breathing. The boy lifted his hand to his face and stared at it as if he'd never seen it before, turning it back and forth and wiggling his fingers. His throat worked as thoughts flew behind his eyes. They snapped up when they perceived movement, as hard as a falcon's.

"A student of magic," Gríma said, retreating, a shrewd look entering her eyes. She regarded Loki anew. "I didn't know Asgardians approved of sorcery."

The blank, no-look returned to Loki's face.

"Leave him alone," Thor said.

Gríma glanced at the golden-haired boy still stuck beneath Hildibrandr. "Your brother can fight his own battles," she said.

"Exactly. I can fight on my own," Loki said, lifting his hand again towards her, palm upwards. Tremors shivered up and down the arm. "You will do as I say, creature. You will allow my brother and I freedom and pledge not to bother us any further."

For a moment Gríma stood unmoving. Then, smiling to reveal two shining, pointed eyeteeth, lifted her arms and affected a little curtsy. "As you wish, little princeling," she said. She clucked her tongue and a great weight lifted off Thor. He was on his feet and by Loki's side, bristling. He realized the burning cold anger in his heart was a warrior's vengeance and vowed he would one day kill Gríma Ketilsdóttir, even if he had to tear the nine realms apart to do so. When he would be king of Asgard he would be the destroyer of all evil, starting with her. Without taking his gaze off the three creatures, he and his brother began to back away. A strange eyeshine gleamed from Gríma's eyes.

"I suggest cleaning your blood off first," she said just before they were out of earshot. "That sort of thing draws attention here."

.s.

The two brothers stumbled in the dark, clutching at each other, the weight of the foreign night pressing all around them. Thor was dead on his feet. His knuckles sizzled. His head ached. His belly gnawed on him and his throat felt tighter than before. His cheeks felt itchy from where tears had tracked and he scrubbed his face raw. Twice he tripped and on the second time almost pulled Loki down. By unspoken desire the two of them didn't stop until they were far, far away from the murderers' camp. Thor felt his limbs shake at the thought of their near death, at Loki's. The searing pain returned at the thought of losing his brother with such force he stopped what he was doing and enveloped Loki in a bone-crushing embrace. He felt resistance for a second before his brother softened and returned it, nearly at the same strength. They didn't move for a long time, until Loki began to gently pull away. Thor allowed it with reluctance. They stood a foot apart, unable to make the others' features in the pitch black.

"I almost lost you," Thor said, voice quiet.

"We almost lost each other," Loki replied. He said a moment later, "I'm so, so sorry for my tongue," and in the darkness Thor heard the sharp bitterness in his voice. "That monster was right: I should've kept that to myself. I'll be cleverer in the future." It sounded like a vow; Thor understood the gravity of the moment and was quiet in respect.

"No, brother," Thor said after some time. "I'm the older one. I was supposed to protect you. Blast my youth! When we return to Asgard, I'll train until I'm the best warrior the histories have ever seen."

Loki snorted. "You don't even like history."

Thor grinned in the pitch black, then sobered. "Still, it worked out in the end. That was . . . I've never seen you do magic like that before."

There was a hesitation. "I've never been privy to sorcery like that," Loki said. "Not even from my teachers. They said it was a foolish pursuit, that I didn't have enough talent to become a true master." Some of the iron from before entered his tone. It was a new, jealous note. "When we get back, I'm submersing myself in my studies, with or without their permission."

_When we get back. _The words hung between them, unspoken, but as clear as a bell's knoll. Their little adventure, innocent enough in the beginning, had long stretched out of proportion. Thor sensed they were beyond the typical amount of punishment, and as much as he yearned for the safety of Asgard, a part of him quailed before the thoughts of facing his father. Would they be beaten? He had heard trespassers of Odin's rule were flogged, and if this wasn't a trespass, Thor didn't know what was. Would his mother allow it, or would she have to submit as well? Or would she have a hand in the punishment as well? Thor's thoughts grew darker and darker as he thought about her disappointment, a blow far worse than any of Odin's floggings. They were heavy thoughts, and they crowded to the surface of his skin with increasing clamor. He rubbed his forehead, aching inside and out. As if sensing his turmoil, he felt Loki's light hand on his shoulder.

"We're in this together," Loki's disembodied voice said, warm and wry. "Let's worry about Mother and Father when we cross that bridge."

Thor felt himself smile, but it was a tired one. Without speaking again the two brothers found shelter in the roots of a massive tree. Within moments they were curled up and asleep, dead to the world.

.s.

The next morning was worse than the first one. Parched for thirst, almost doubled with hunger, Thor was desperate enough to try eating the leaves of the bushes. At the first attempt he spat it out, grimacing at the acrid, bitter taste. The light was still peregrine blue from dawn when Thor rose Loki out from his thin sleep. The two fell into a grueling rhythm, urgent for food and water. It was too painful to think of the cooking meat of last night; the whole encounter, surreal and dreamlike, was too painful to think of. He destroyed a creature's face with his fists. Not even his most savage tussles reached that level. This whole adventure, if one could call it that, was surreal. Just yesterday they were safe in the apple grove, enjoying the warm sunlight and tranquility. Thor's stomach mewled. He ignored it, knowing he had nothing to feed it. Loki's own belly made feeble sounds. A strange steel had entered his brother's visage; though he moved alongside Thor, he moved as elegantly as he had done the first day. A stirring of jealousy bit Thor. He was supposed to be the one good at everything, except studying, of course. He strove to move with feet of velvet, but only succeeded in making more noise. Loki glanced over, his look of _Be more quiet _irritating him. Then Thor thought, _I can still handle a sword better, _and his mood lightened. His mood soared even higher when he heard the first chortles of a river.

"Water!" he said. He burst into a run.

"Thor, wait up!"

Thor heard but couldn't stop. He muscled bushes and leapt over exposed roots, a primeval force of survival spurring him on. Whether it was from his weakened body or his lack of caring, he felt as weightless as a bird in flight. When he exploded onto the sight of the swollen river, he almost wept with joy. It was dark and swift, running at a good pace. Thor fell to his hands and knees and like a horse sucked in as much water he could fit in his mouth. The cool sweetness was like Valhalla on his tongue. He groaned his happiness. He heard the bushes rustle behind him but knew it had to be his brother. When the silence lingered, he looked towards his side.

"What? Can't enjoy . . ." The words died in his throat at the sight of the beast's cadaverous visage. It resembled a boar, if a boar spouted two heads and horns. It looked half-rotten with mange, tufts of fur lifted in odd clumps and revealing glistening, purple flesh beneath. Diseased lips lifted in matching yellow grins as the heads rolled sightless eyes. It ignored him at first, pulling draughts of water in its rancid jaws, parts of itself falling off under the force of its drinking. Thor was frozen. Even the thoughts in his head were coated in ice. He remained there, unmoving, staring at the horrific creature only two stone throws away. The longer it drank, the more his mind began to thaw. What if it didn't eat meat? What if it was more thirsty than hungry? Thor began to unglue himself from the ground and started to inch to his feet. He dislodged a pebble and the rotting boar-thing swiveled both heads his direction. The white orbs seemed to bore into him, arresting him into place. A queer whine rose from the twin throats. It took a step forward. Then another. One opened its mouth, broken decaying teeth glinting. Thor's heart drummed hard in his chest. He bent down and picked up a stone. He chucked it into the forest. The creature rotated an ear but wasn't deterred. Thor's eyes flicked, searching for the green and gold leathers of his brother.

With remarkable agility for a beast so haggard and large, the swine-creature charged. Thor stumbled back. Then fell. The water was deeper than it appeared and its current, faster. Thor spluttered to the surface, hair in his face and mouth. An enraged squeal followed him as he floated downstream. To his consternation, the thing followed him, hurrying on lanky legs. At first Thor thought he could remain in the river, but after a decision, the swine plowed into the water. Terrorized revulsion seized him at the snuffling, eager sight of the monster paddling in his direction. Splashing, yelling, he tried to swim backwards, arms cartwheeling. Chucks of the creature floated off it as it drew near. Thor was close enough to smell its decay. Fear lent strength to his watery muscles and he kicked out, swimming as fast as he could. He screamed when a hot mouth clamped over his leg. His screams turned gargled when he was suddenly pulled underwater. He struggled to free himself, lashing, but every movement of his trapped leg made the teeth dig in deeper. He turned and punched the snout as hard as he could. The mouth released him and he exploded to the surface, gasping air.

"Get down!"

Thor didn't question. He submerged again just as a ripple of heat flew overhead. In the murky quality of underwater sound he heard a dreadful squealing. Lungs bursting, he kicked himself to the bank and hurried out. He looked behind him to see the swine-thing on fire despite being in water. It was floating downstream, thrashing great splashes of water, its sightless eyes rolling in their sockets. It reached the opposite side and loped out, still on fire, grunting in agony. It crashed through the bushes and was soon out of sight.

Thor turned to thank his savior, his smile of joy dying when he saw it wasn't his brother. It was an older man, his face pockmarked and weathered. Small wooden cages of all sizes covered his bent frame, some filled with tiny creatures, others empty. His gnarled hands gripped the staff that cast the spell. He leaned closer, as if his eyesight was poor. His expression was open and friendly, the eyes warm brown pebbles. Thor felt the tension in his muscles relax at the sight of unguarded friendliness.

"Lucky you," the man said. "Not many survive their first encounter with a _hrelling_."

Thor remembered his manners. Hiding the new pains in his leg, he drew himself tall, bowed, and said, "I thank you, old man, for saving me."

The man laughed, flashing brilliant white teeth. "Ho-ho, you don't have to stand on ceremony for me. It was the least I could do; we should all help each other out, nay?"

Thor found the man's smile infectious and did the same. He nodded. "Of course."

"Here, why don't you follow me to my home? You look like a drowned kitten. Some warm food and milk will do you wonders."

Thor hesitated. He looked over his shoulder for a flash of green and gold but saw only forest and wilderness. He frowned. _Loki, where are you? _he thought. He was torn: as tempting as food sounded, he wanted to search for his brother. What if his brother was hurt, like him? He shifted his weight from leg to leg. He was about to open his mouth to refuse when the man chuckled.

"Ah, I've made you wary. Don't worry. I don't live far and it'll only be for a quick meal. Do you like meat, lad?"

A sharp pain cramped Thor's stomach and the reality of the situation weighed on him. _I'll be no use to my brother weak like this, _he thought. _I don't know how much longer I can manage. I'll take food and come back. Don't worry, brother: I'll return. _

Thor relaxed again and tried not to appear too hungry. "Some food would be wonderful."

He began to follow the man into the forest, but not before ripping a little strip from his tunic and tying it on a bush. After one last longing look, he hurried after his rescuer. For an old man he was spry in movement: Thor found himself panting under the pace, his famished body sluggish, the leg where the _hrelling_ bit down aching. He paused long enough to tie a little more of his tunic on a bush before jogging after his guide. He hid his relief when he saw the little cottage. The man grinned at him from over his shoulder.

"See? Not far," the man said.

When they reached the door the man undid the locking mechanism and opened the door to allow Thor through. Thor mounted the creaking wooden steps and entered the dim anterior. A sour, vinegary smell permeated the air. Thor wrinkled his nose. The cottage was low-ceilinged, with a tiny fireplace and chest in the corner, a meager table and chair in the centre, and a cabinet. There was one small, soiled window. There was no bed. The floor was hard-packed dirt. Thor went to the table and touched it. His hand came back covered in dust. He wiped it on the seat of his pants and turned to the man, who was removing the cages one at a time. Somehow the man had closed the door without Thor noticing and the dimness stirred the first beginnings of unease within him.

"You mentioned food?" Thor asked, looking around to ease his mind.

"Yes, yes," the man said. "Just let me—there, done." He removed the last cage from his belt and placed it in the cabinet. "Sit, sit! I'll go get the bread and milk." He went to the oblong chest on the floor near the fireplace and lifted the leather strap. The sour, rank odor grew stronger. Thor wiped at his nose, wincing. As directed he went to the chair and sat on the edge. He wished Loki was there with him. Then the man was before him, a platter in his hand and a cup in the other. He placed them before Thor with a flourish.

"There! Enjoy."

The milk was curdled in greasy, greenish lumps. The bread was covered in mold. Maggots wiggled in and out like bloated yellow rice. Thor felt his stomach flip-flop with nausea. He swallowed hard. The unease brewing in his chest jolted into cold fear. He struggled to control himself and tried to appear nonchalant, as Loki would've done.

"Thank you for the food, but I'm not very hungry. I should be going now," he said.

"I think you're going nowhere," the man said, mocking Thor's quiet tone with a gleeful one of his own. "Eh, lad?"

"Let me go," Thor said, back prickling with sweat.

"I will . . . eventually," the man said, smiling, and it was now Thor saw the teeth were as sharp and thin as fish bones. "Not before I eat all your meat and use your bones for my new cages. It's not often I come across fresh tender lads. And Asgardian, too! Lucky day, lucky day."

Thor stood up. The chair teetered on two legs then crashed to the ground. The man clapped his suddenly clawed hands in merriment.

"My father is rich and powerful," Thor said, backing away, eyes darting for an escape route. "He will shower you in gold if you let me go."

The man snorted. "What use is gold to me? I can't eat it. No, lad, I'm going to pick you clean. Wish you were a little more plump, but I'm not that choo—"

A rock sailed through the window and shattered it with a twinkling crash. Thor overturned the table, sending foul milk and bread everywhere. The man fell back with a roar. Tearing off one of the table's legs, the boy struck a grappling hand away. The man howled. Thor looked through the window and saw Loki's thin visage.

"Want it that way, har?" the man said. He took up his staff, snarling. Thor threw himself down when a blast of fire roared overhead. Heat, roiling and suffocating, filled the room. Thor got up, coughing, and launched himself at the window. Shards of glass sliced his palms but fear overcame the pain. He was almost wiggled through when hands closed around his boot. He kicked out, lashing, but the grip refused to let go.

"Loki!" he cried in an agony of terror as he felt himself being pulled back. His brother lifted on his toes and extended a hand. A flash of green scalded the air and a shriek filled the cottage. An acrid stench of burning flesh stung the nose. The hands dropped away. Thor fell out of the window and landed on his shoulder, hard.

"Hurry," Loki said, and Thor almost tripped over his own feet running. The two boys raced into the forest as the door slammed open. Thor didn't dare look back. He forced himself to greater and greater speeds, pushing his flagging body to its outermost limits. Black dots swam in his vision. His lungs screamed. Just when he was about to fall to the ground, spent to death, Loki gripped his shoulder with bruising fingers and steered him under a bush. The two of them huddled together, exhausted, gasping in huge gulps. Loki covered Thor's mouth with a cold hand and hissed between bared teeth. Thor tried to be quiet, his heart hammering in his chest and ears with almost painful ferocity. A pinched look of concentration fell on Loki's face and he raised his hand. He waved it in a way Thor had never seen before and the focus redoubled. Sweat poured down his brother's temple. Loki didn't react when the bushes crashed and revealed the man, disheveled, bleeding, murderous. His furious gaze swept the area, nose flaring for the scent of terrified boys. He was close enough that Thor could smell the burnt patches of hair and flesh. He was sure they would be discovered and huddled, frozen in a rictus of fear. The man's eyes passed over them once, twice. Thor couldn't believe it when the man, unsure, moved on. At last the forest was quiet and still.

Thor slumped on his brother's shoulder, almost too exhausted to be relieved. "You found me," he said.

"I followed the scraps of cloth," Loki said. His long, slender fingers smoothed Thor's hair out of his face.

"I was sure he would find us." Thor felt himself fading. His eyelashes fluttered.

"I hid us with an illusion," Loki said. "I understand it, now. The magic, I mean. Before with my tutors I over-thought it, trying to exert my will, it only produced weak results. But when I let treat it like a partnership and allow it power, it comes to me like—"

But Thor was already asleep.

.s.

Feverish dreams plagued Thor. He tossed and mumbled in his sleep, running away from coal-eyed men and diseased, yellow smiles. He woke to cool fingers on his brow and water dribbling down his throat. Loki crouched above him, cheeks hollowed with hunger, purple circles under his eyes. It was sometime late afternoon, the sky above beyond the trees an iron gray and as heavy as lead. Thor finished the water his brother gave him and sat up, wiping his mouth.

"We should move on," Loki said, sounding as drained as he appeared. "It's not safe here."

Thor nodded, an odd heaviness weighing his head. His whole body felt sluggish. Even the blood in his veins trickled along at the pace of sludge. He got up, wincing at his injured leg and lacerated hands. Loki helped him and together they limped down a small path and beyond. They fell into a dogged rhythm, neither of them speaking to conserve energy. Thor's stomach was a knotted rope. He began to imagine food: great, steaming loaves, sizzling, roasting assortment of meats, candied tarts, iced mead, goblets overflowing with water, vegetables dipped in butter and cream, pastries, crystallized honey stretched as far as the eye could see. He fantasized of Asgard's bounty until Loki stopped.

Thor looked at him, some of the cobwebs clearing. "What? What is it?"

"I think I see water," Loki said.

Thor grunted. He scuffed the ground with his toe. "Sorry for the other time," he said, but his brother waved the apology aside.

"Stay here," Loki said. He began to move towards the little brook. When he crossed the clearing it was like watching a fawn, graceful and lithe. Thor couldn't help but watch the nimble movements and feel a part of him twist with envy. He couldn't understand why he felt that way; he never had that reaction when watching his playmates scuffle around at sparring fields, yet watching Loki cross the stream like a delicate wild thing somehow made his chest lock up. Loki looked around, wary, then sank down to his haunches at the brook's edge. His hands dipped in the water and came up brimming. He took a sip and drank deeply. Thor, seeing all was safe, move out of his hiding spot and went to his brother's side. Together they drank with the wariness of wild animals, their shoulders tensed, skin tight. Thor drank until his belly burgeoned. He felt a little sick, but his thirst was quenched for the first time in three days. He sat up, satisfied but still faint with hunger. He lay back and stared at the trees' gnarled crowns swaying above his head. They made soft, rustling noises. A raindrop hit his cheek. Then another. It wasn't until the rain began to pepper the surrounding vegetation did Loki insist they find shelter. They limped under a tree and watched as the world around them became gray under the deluge. The brook swelled. The air grew chilled.

The downpour began to peter out when the golden-haired boy noticed they weren't alone. He clutched Loki's arm in warning. He recognized the lizard-man Kúss with an ugly flush of hatred. The creature was snuffling and gurgling through his broken face, his jaw still askew. Loki made a soft noise. Kúss shot his head up. His remaining greasy yellow eye locked on the two boys. A malevolent sneer curdled his mangled features.

"Found you at last," the lizard-man said. "Think me not worth knowin, eh? I'll show you little _drits_."

He moved closer and withdrew a dirty blade from the folds of his rags. Thor stood up, fury and indignation mingling in his spleen like lava, fueling his body better than food. He had been cut, slapped, chased, tricked, and now, starving and cold, this scum thought he could just kill the sons of Odin? The stress, pain, and humiliation of the past couple of days combined into a blinding wrath. Thor stepped out to meet his tormentor, seeing red. He shrugged Loki off and said,

"No, I'll show you!" and he launched himself at the creature. Kúss blinked, taken off-guard at his ferocity. He lifted the blade but it was a clumsy guard; Thor recognized it and executed the proper countermove, spinning and kneeing Kúss hard in the solar plexus. The creature grunted and slashed the air, but the blow was too high and Thor ducked it as easily as breathing. Kúss snarled. He noticed Loki sneaking in, hand upraised. The lizard-man darted to him and issued the young god a stunning backhand. Thor flushed with rage when Loki spun and fell. He grabbed the creature's swordhand's wrist and snapped it. His enemy shrieked. Thor was a whirlwind. He kicked, lashed, punched, filled with rage, not caring of the cuts and blows he received. His vision narrowed to the battle and saw nothing else. He saw his enemy's weaknesses as if they were painted red and moved to exploit them. Within moments the lizard-man had his blade knocked out of his hand and on his back, eye wide, hands up in surrender. Thor stood over him, breathing hard, fists gripped around the bone handle. He leveled the point at Kúss' throat, right above the hammering carotid. The lizard-man stared up at him, naked fear scrawled on his face.

"Please, mercy!" he said, jaw haphazard in stress.

Loki appeared by his side, one cheek flushed brick red. "Thor, he's not worth it," he said, low and insistent. Thor swallowed hard. But this was justice, wasn't it? This was smiting the enemy, destroying evil before it could destroy good. Someone had to do it. He was that person. He was prince of Asgard, and king one day: he would have to exact glorious vengeance. So simple. So neat. All he needed to do was finish it. He shook himself, blinking, as if waking from a dream. He stared at his mewling enemy, at the sword in his hand, at his enemy. He tried to steel himself, to prepare for the squelching blood, for the death-rattle, but the longer he stood the more his arms began to shake. Rain dripped in his face. Thor wavered. The sword's tip wobbled. With a grunt Thor backed away, shivering. Loki sighed a breath of relief. Kúss remained on the ground, as if disbelieving of his good fortune. He was about to stand up, ruined jaw working, when a spear sang through the air and skewered him straight through the chest. The lizard-man fell back, his death-blood gurgling up through his mouth and nose, shock scrawled over his dying features. Thor and Loki yelled, scrambling. Thor raised the sword again, arms trembling worse than before.

"—couldn't believe, stupid, foolish, _drit-_for-brains—" The she-beast Gríma emerged through the bushes, her black hair plastered to her shoulders like ink seaweed. She eyed the two shivering boys and the sword in Thor's hands.

"Put that down," she said. "I'm not going to hurt you."

"You almost killed us last time," Thor said. He didn't let go of the sword. "And you just set your companion on us."

Gríma snorted. "'Companion' was a strong word. And for your information, little princeling, Kúss sought you out on your own, despite my orders not to. I killed him for insolence."

Thor gaped at her. His grip on the blade slackened and its tip buried in a wet duff. "You were the one who threw the spear?"

"You're welcome."

Thor looked away, conflicted. He tried not to look at the dead man but his eyes were drawn, magnetized. He'd never seen anything die before; he'd seen pictures of battlefields in the history tomes, but he hadn't expected death to be this messy. The metallic, honeysuckle scent of blood hung in the humid air. Kúss' mouth was open, still wide in surprise, eye wide and unseeing. The élan, the life-force, was gone. Thor stared at the death mask, cold. Loki's shoulder brush against his. He looked up. Loki's eyes were pale mirrors, reflecting his own revulsion and nausea. Thor was never gladder to have him by his side. He brushed shoulders back.

"You boys must be starving by now," the she-beast said, nonchalant, as if she hadn't just killed a man moments before. Reaching into a pocket, she withdrew a wrapped nugget of meat. She held it in front of her but both boys refused to move, their gazes pinched and stony. Gríma grinned a mouthful of sharp teeth. "Learning, are we? Good for you. But this is one time the universe isn't out to get you."

"Where's the dark elf?" Loki asked.

"Still looking for my _illiligr_, the one you scared off_. _He won't disturb us."

She placed the food on the ground and side-stepped. She began to move away, circling them in a wide berth, focus on Kúss. Thor and Loki never took their gaze off her, but she ignored them as if they didn't exist. She gripped the lizard-man's shoulder and, with a grunt, began to drag him into the surrounding bushes. Thor watched for a moment longer before turning to the meat on the ground. His stomach sent glassy shards of pain through his body. He winced. He looked at Loki and saw a similar expression on his face. Loki nodded. They walked to the meat. Thor knelt down and picked it up. With shaking fingers he ripped in two equal parts and handed it to his brother. Despite his great hunger Loki nibbled at the meat. Thor wolfed it down in seconds. He licked his greasy fingers and eyed the remaining meat in Loki's hand. A few minutes later he was clutching at his midriff, squinting in pain.

When Gríma reappeared from the bushes he snarled at her. "You poisoned me!"

Gríma chuckled. "You ate too quickly." She stared at him, something like wistfulness crossing her face. "Must be wonderful, not to know true hunger." She shook herself. "Here, drink some of this: it'll help." She unwound a leather flask from her side and offered it to him. With reluctant fingers Thor took it, careful not to touch his hands with her glistening, translucent ones. He was close enough to see the white bones and black veins pulsing beneath the surface. He glanced at Loki and asked with his eyes, _Should I drink it?_

Loki shook his head in an indiscernible twitch and turned his attention on Gríma.

"You were so keen on killing us before," Loki said, voice colourless as rain. "What's changed your mind now?"

"It would be a pity to kill someone with such powerful magic," she said.

"You truly believe I have such power?" Loki asked, and Thor had never seen that particular gleam in his brother's eye before. It was hungry, dark, and something else, something he was afraid to articulate. He looked away.

Gríma was solemn. "I do, son of Odin. You'll be great and terrible one day, Ragnarok spare us all."

Loki sank into the indifferent mask, cool and unreadable. Thor felt Gríma glance at him. She nodded at the unopened flask still in his hand.

"Drink," she said, and after another hesitation, Thor did. After a while, he did feel better.

.s.

"You're lucky, little princelings. You weren't lying about your father searching for you. Aesir have been crawling on this world since yesterday. A search party lies not two hour's walk away in that direction," she said, pointing to where rescue lay. Thor and Loki followed her hand with eager eyes.

"Will you escort us?" Loki asked.

Gríma choked on the meat she was gnawing on. "In the name of Ragnarok, no. I have a bounty on my head. How would it look if I appeared with two little princelings, all cut and bloody? No, no. You're going on your own."

"You could have your bounty expunged with our good word," Loki said, but the creature shook her head.

"You've made it this far," she said. "You can make the last stretch by yourselves. Besides, I like my bounty. Makes life more interesting."

If Loki was disappointed, Thor couldn't tell. The food filled him with a comfort he'd forgotten, but his body still felt as if made of lead. He climbed to his feet, still facing the direction Gríma pointed to, his legs restless and jittery. _Home. Safety. _It was all so close. His jaw clenched. He wanted to sleep for a thousand years. He turned to Loki. His brother got up in a graceful unfolding of limbs and nodded. Gríma remained sitting by the small campfire, crunching at the bone's cartilage.

Thor bowed to her. "Thank you," he said, but she waved it away.

"Your thanks will be me never seeing you again. Go on, now. This is no place for little princelings."

"One day I'll be strong enough to go anywhere," Thor said.

Gríma smiled and inclined her head in a mock bow, but said nothing.

Loki gripped his shoulder. "Let's go," he said.

Thor took one last look at the creature who became both friend and enemy then slipped back into the forest with Loki. With food and water in their bellies the trees didn't appear as sinister, the sky, not so bleak. They moved at a gritty pace, pushing their weary bodies to their limit, both unwilling to consider the she-beast's directions were false, their eyes latched on the place she said. They didn't have to talk to know they both yearned escape from this strange and hostile world. Twice they hid from a snorting and grunting beast, both times huddled under Loki's illusion spell, until the danger passed. The late afternoon gloom began to settle across the forest and they had yet to spy gleaming armor or feathered helmets. Dread was a wet knot in Thor's chest. He began to doubt their directions. Did they make a mistake? Were they too late and the search party had moved on? Or had this all been an elaborate, cruel trick on Gríma's part? The tears of dismay began to sting his eyes. He refused to look at Loki in shame. It was all his fault. He wished he'd never come across the tunnel. He was steeling himself to announce they were lost when Loki's soft exhale stopped him. Thor tensed, thinking it was another danger, then froze at the unmistakable sound of calling. They shared a look and together hurried towards the source, strength they didn't know they had flooding their bodies.

When the brothers tottered into view of the Aesir search party they were scratched, cut, bruised, sore, hungry, exhausted, their clothes no better. An outcry sprang up at the sight of them, several _"The princes!" _and _"Thank the Allfather, they're found!" _roaring through the air, ululating.

Loki found Thor's hand and gave a slight squeeze. "We did it, brother."

For the first time in days, they were safe.

.s.

The next several days found Thor and Loki stuffed with food, bathed, scrubbed, and bandaged. They were ordered bed rest and not allowed far from their rooms. At first Frigg never left them out of her sight, overcome with random urges to stroke their heads or faces until they were batting her away. Odin visited several times, grizzled visage solemn. At first Thor treaded eggshells around his father, cringing at the punishment Odin surely had planned, but as the days went by and no reprimand befell them, Thor asked his mother why their father hadn't chastised them.

"It's because he knows you've already learned your lesson," Frigg said, and the last great weight rolled off Thor's chest.

On the last night of their imposed bed rest Thor snuck into Loki's room, something he hadn't done since they were little. His bare feet padded on the sleek marbled floors with soft slapping noises as he skirted around the pillars to avoid the occasional guard. When the coast was clear he creaked the oaken doors open and let himself in. He walked to where his brother lay in the expansive bed. Loki appeared to be in a deep sleep, dreaming, but awoke at Thor's light touch on his arm. Thor swallowed, suddenly unsure of himself. With all of the recent commotion the brothers had little time alone, and now with their rest almost over, tomorrow would find them engaging in their separate activities: Thor in the sparring fields, Loki in his books. Life would continue as it did before the whole adventure, and some part of Thor was confused and saddened. He tried to speak, tried to quantify everything they've been through, but he saw in Loki's eyes his brother understood, and the quiet moment passed between them unspoken.

.

.

_fin_


End file.
